


Strange Encounters DISCONTINUED

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AtsuHina, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mafia AU, Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hinata Shouyou is the demon prodigy of one of the eight biggest mafias ruling over Tokyo. Other than killing being a huge part of his daily routine, his life is kind of normal.That is until an arising new group called Shiratorizawa decides to break the peace and attack Karasuno territories.In order to protect his friends, Hinata will have to face obstacles he'd never met before, make new alliances as well as decipher the enemy amongst his people.Oh, and the fact that Miya Atsumu has his eyes on the small tangerine doesn't necessarily help either..
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Goshiki Tsutomu/Shirabu Kenjirou, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 89





	1. A strange encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to both my proof readers!!  
> I'm really excited about this project, since now I have time to commit to writing as well:)  
> (hmu on discord if u have any questions lololol: nora#7784)

Hinata leaned his tiny frame against his bike, feeling the engine’s vibrations against his chest, as he headed down the main road into a narrow alleyway. Chilly midnight air flowed from his orangish locks under his dark denim jacket, lifting it up only to reveal an equally dark, cropped tshirt.

Although he would rather wear something more accurate to what people his age wore, camouflaging into the dark was a main priority in his line of work.

  
Heavy amount adrenaline rushed into his mind as he pushed out of the alley, catching glimpse of whom he only knew as his targets. In the matter of seconds, he found himself in the lane besides a jet-black Porsche, throwing a halfhearted grin the driver’s way.

  
Besides the two vehicles, no other car could be seen anywhere else. Under the night’s graceful dimness only the echo of the motor’s soft vrooms gave away their presence.

  
Hinata slipped a hand into his clothing, palm hovering over his beloved gun’s grip, whilst the other maneuvered the bike by itself. He felt movement behind him and so reflexively, without giving it much thought, he let his full weight drop to the side, making the motorcycle groan loudly and edgily turn right, going a full circle before turning back into his original direction.

  
Now, Hinata was behind both the intruder and his target and every hitman should know that that infact, is a good thing, save for exceptionally unlikely cases.

  
The stranger’s bike ignited a sudden jealousness in Hinata as it had those cool led lit wheels Hinata had been crazing over for months now. He huffed annoyedly to himself and spoke into his earpiece.

  
“A stray just joined.” He said, words soft and small.

  
There was a static crack before a somewhat high, male voice replied, “That’s good, follow him and loose the object. Another awaits you about two kilometers to East.”

  
What Hinata had learned so far, ever since he joined this well paying organization, was to always have an alias and an ally, whenever, wherever.

  
Although in the world Hinata lived, allies were quite unreliable, they symbolized an unspoken agreement on the current targets need of death. Now as well, Karasuno and Nekoma fought side by side against an arising, new group, that day by day was cutting both Nekoma’s and Karasuno’s best incomes.

  
There are countless groups withing Tokyo’s area, but only very few that actually matter. Good examples for this are Fukurodani, Nekoma, Aoba Johsai and Karasuno, with a few more as addition.

  
The aforementioned “stray” led Hinata into a side lane, which to Hinata’s major unsatisfaction, parted ways from the car he chased prior to the new command. From the blurs of movement, he knew the crew sent a group of low class hitmans as his replacement, which made him smirk lightly.

  
About two kilometers later the person leading Hinata hopped of his bike, shaking off a heavy, black helmet and revealing unbleached roots and curious, honey eyes.  
“Kenma!” The little tangerine beamed in joy, arms wrapping around the slightly taller’s oversized black button up. Hinata laughed lowly, knowing very well whom the shirt belonged to.

  
Kenma patted the fluffy orange locks, humming in satisfaction as he read through the following instructions on his phone.

  
“It’s an inside job so we’ll have to leave the bikes outside.” Hinata nodded, suddenly lacking interest in work and moreover focusing on his friend’s bike.

  
“You knew I wanted one of those for a long time,” he pouted, leaning away from the hug just to cross his arms.

  
Kenma sighed and shook his head, whilst fixing the knife holder on his ankle, “How’d you know one isn’t awaiting in your apartment’s parking lot?”

  
Hinata jumped around him, hands striking the air in sudden outburst of excitement, “You’re the best Kenma-senpai!!”

  
“Ugh, stop that... Let’s just get going, yeah?” Kenma was one of the few people in this business who always had his thoughts clearly displayed on his face, and right now it showed none other than disgust.

  
Hinata laughed him off heartily, moving behind Kenma, still eyeing the awesome bike next to his boring one, “Yeh.”

-

Up on their entrance, heads turned in the warmly lit club, and in all honestly Hinata felt like a movie star walking down the red carpet.

  
It was one of those only members club where rich would go to throw thousands of dollars on poorly dressed, probably still college student, girls and boys and have a quick fun to forget the bitter sorrows of life.

  
Shouyou as well as Kenma got a few glances, but he only thought of it as a smaller confidence boost, (not like he hadn’t been in a place like this before…)

  
Kenma leaned to Hinata’s ear, whispering the details of the procedure with such preciseness, that the tangerine boy found himself blushing madly at how smart he sounded.

  
He envied his mind since the day they became best friends, even though they were practically rivals as hitmans.

  
He saw Kenma slide his fingers along the polished oakwood of the counter and slip into the seat opposite a dyed gray haired bartender.

  
He let his hands support his resting head and smiled the nicest way to the bartender, a single strand of bicolored strand falling into his sight, which caused him to giggle at the man and tuck the hair behind his ear.

  
Hinata noted what a great actor Kenma was.

  
The grayhead seemingly already enjoyed his company. Kenma mouthed the words “A cognac please” to which he nodded.

  
Whilst the two were eyefucking each other, - now it’s a good time to mention how awfully hot the bartender was oh my - , Hinata soundlessly proceeded forward the hallway, into what he knew to be an office room and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, clothed hand resting against it until he was sure it was tightly shut.

  
He turned the key, which for some stupid reason was in the keyhole, with equal attention. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar room for a mere second, before he munched himself into the desks drawers, searching for a classified contract paper.

  
The walls were wrapped in golden decorated wallpaper and held pictures of the bar and some people Hinata had only seen in files.

  
Each drawer was filled with thousands of papers and notebooks, making his job significantly harder. He read through a few of them, skipping paragraphs and throwing the already checked ones into a pile besides him.

  
He groaned in dismay as he met a shut cabinet under a heavy pack of marketing strategy documents.

  
Shouyou’s eyebrows knitted together as he slipped a thin hairpin from his fluffy, orange crown, pushing it into the hole and feeling the mechanics of it. He tilted it in various directions, pushing every little out sticking metal and after a while, a click signaled his success.

  
He pulled out the drawer and came face to face with a single key. Shouyou’s naturally smiley face fell at that and he felt sudden madness poisoning his system. He felt his artery to know how his body was holding up, since it was a long ass day and it was nowhere yet near over.

  
Now, if he were a contract paper, where would he hide?

  
From many years of mainly firsthand experience, Hinata’s first guess was the desk, which clearly was a big miss.

  
“Oi, it’s not there,”

  
Hinata immediately pushed his guard up, suddenly aware of the figure in the doorway, “I have it right here.”

  
The strangely familiar man was waving a crumpled piece of paper and used a tone of voice a child would while saying “hey, let’s be friends”.

  
Hinata also noted how he looked completely identical to the bartender save for the differently dyed hair, which made it understandable why he found him familiar in the first place.

  
The red leather jacket he wore highlighted the basic darkness of his tee and ripped black pants which – in Hinata’s humble opinion – gave absolute justice to the muscly curves of his leg.

  
Other than his overfriendly looks, a dangerously sinister glint sparkled in his golden orbs, reminding the boy of the menace his being should cause.

  
Hinata may have started too dumbly for too long before realizing he was doing so.

  
When at last he recollected himself, and as sternly as he could, locked eyes with bartender 0.2, he lost himself again. This abrupt case of self-consciousness left him unguarded when he heard the reply to his “What do you want for it?” question.

  
“A little bit of affection would be nice I guess.” A shrug followed the statement. He skipped into the room, and as the door closed yet again, Hinata squinted his eyes just to catch glimpse of his best friend still flirting heavily, further down the hallway, now legs pulled under himself on the stall in a suggestive manner.

  
All the tangerine’s afore collected experiences got flushed in seconds when his awestruck self uttered out a “Who are you?”

  
The man smiled sweetly, eyeing the way Hinata was seated on the floor, big, shining puppy eyes staring right back. “That’s fun coming from ya, midget.” He took a seat behind the desk, quite close to Hinata (whose sudden spark of interest outshone the threat the man held.)

  
“Anyways, the name’s Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.”

  
Right, Shouyou had definitely heard that name before.

  
Atsumu lifted his head a bit just so Hinata could see how he was looking down at him, very much on purpose. Not like he minded.

  
He glanced back at the contract he came for and felt a sudden pang of realization.

  
“So what do you want for it?” He asked again, voice stern and expectant.

  
He saw Atsumu force back a quick laugh and cough to downen the mood, “Ya can start by giving your name, I’ll consider what’s next.”

  
That was definitely not a good thing. Everyone in this field of work knew Hinata Shouyou, the Karauno prodigy who had been sending bullets into highranks since the age of ten.

  
He cleared his throat, shifting himself from sitting with his legs besides him into more of a kneeling position, fingers wrapped tightly around his matt Glock 17 in his back pocket, “Chuuya Nakahara.”

  
The statement itself was hilarious considering that Nakahara was one of the protagonists of a fairly eminent mafia movie.

  
Atsumu’s face broke and honey coated laugh bounced from the probably soundproof walls.

  
He threw his head back, the careless laughter smoothening Shouyou’s venomed heart.

  
He could see his tight muscles pull through the black denim as the Miya twin threw his legs onto the desk, and – oh god, his smile – his head tilted to the side, golden eyes shimmering in a familiar, semiserious way.

  
And then there was silence.

  
Hinata had a HK USP shown into his temple, whilst his firm grip on his trusted Glock pointed just a little upper than the other’s now balefully small right pupil.

  
Atsumu was so clearly a right brained person.

  
First there were the pens scattered on the left side of the desk, then the way he subconsciously and rarely, (not rarely enough for Hinata to miss), only fully lidded his right eye-  
-and lastly the fact that he had his left palm resting on the metallic side of the – by the way very nice – gun was a huge giveaway.

  
Hinata had this thing where he would assassin one by putting a bullet into the dominant side of their mind, (sometimes sparing the eyes when he found them pretty.)

  
“The Hinata Shouyou, in ma office, just to collect a crumpled shitty contract. I’m honored, truly!”

  
Now Hinata couldn’t help but find the man’s being somewhat similar to a character from some manga he’d read online. He shrugged it off though, with a small smile finding its way on his soft, thin lips.

  
Atsumu eyed Shouyou for awhile before lowering his gun, pushing it back to its prior place and picking up the paper from where he tossed it before. He circled his pray, Hinata, with terrifying chillness and the boy found his sangfroid slipping away when he felt a sudden warmth in the crook of his neck.

  
“You’re a pretty little thang, aren’t ya?” Hinata felt like melting into the enemy’s hands when Atsumu tranced a single finger along his spine, only stopping lowly. He placed a burning, yet ever so soft kiss onto the boy’s neck, humming nicely at the quickening breaths.

  
He detached himself and reached the paper into the other’s now completely discomposed aura, “It’s yours. Thank ya for stopping by!”

  
Hinata ran a finger over the paper’s now uneven surface and looked at the twin with those huge, cocoa tinted puppy eyes, and Atsumu couldn’t help but smile encouragingly.

  
His confusion only rose with every passing minute and by the time he was halfway out the door, he was more than sure he’d receive young death as soon as he left the room-

  
-However what he received instead was a light slap on his bum and a beaming “See ya soon!!”, before the door was kicked shut.

  
He clutched the paper and strolled out of the building, combat boots feeling heavy on his exhausted feet.

  
He felt the gun in his pocket, sticky from a thick layer of cold sweat. Never ever had Hinata lost his right state of mind before, while on mission.

Hinata typed a quick ‘m done’ , sending it to Kenma as he noted that nor him nor the bartender could be anywhere seen, yet the awesome bike was still in the place he’d left it.

  
His face scrunched into abhorrence; he knew very well how Kenma would keep one from bothering Shouyou’s work.

  
He took a quick picture of the file, sending it to their professional hacker, Nishinoya, who’d classify it soon enough, just so Karasuno can have the information in their system, all to themselves.

  
A light enchanted his huge eyes, as Hinata Shouyou let the lighter’s flame engulf the paper, watching as the ash got tagged along the wind.

  
The now early morning air proved to be chilly against his exposed belly, as he rode down the main avenue. He could still feel a sense of paranoia with the perfect knowledge of how he got his hands on the target object.

  
But death wasn’t a thing he’d normally be afraid of. Sooner or later it would creep up on him, much likely in his sleep, when he’d let go of every sort of resistance and enjoyed the heaviness of being alive slip from under his grasp.

  
The thing was, that he was way too excited about seeing his new bike, so he just simply would not be able to die before doing so.

  
Luminating city lighting blurred into long white lines as he skidded between the towering buildings of Tokyo.

  
He adored this feeling; the smell of afore rain air, the engines vibration caressing his upper, inner tights, the glooming constellations above and the absurdly sexual aftertaste of the day’s dangerously pumped up doze of adrenaline.

  
Hinata was nineteen years old for crying out loud; if anything, he should be getting drunk, laid and everything in between.

  
And here he was instead, a demon prodigy, a deadly weapon, a beloved crow and a boy who could singlehandedly annihilate about thirty well skilled hitmans.

  
He quite literally bounced of his bike once he caught sight of his new one.

  
Clothed fingers roamed around the handlebar, “so pretty…” he muttered and pocketed its key.

  
He tapped lightly onto the top of his earpiece.

  
“Crow ten out for today,” There was an overwhelming lack of sound on the other side.

  
“Suga? I’m tired.” He said, not minding the usual formalities and aliases.

  
The connection was never really good at Hinata’s place, a thing he was thankful for, considering the hackers couldn’t trace his signal well.

  
It was just another addition to the awfully long list of reasons why he believed in the safety of his home.

  
Suga’s reply was cracked, hence the bad connection, but Hinata could still make out an, “alright, you did well today.”

  
He smiled contently and walked into the building.

-

Goshiki burst through the ironed doors of Ushijima’s office, making Tendou jump and turn his head inhumanely.

  
Ushijima barely looked up from the pile of work he was facing as he trusted his advisor’s effective skills in calming whatever the problem seemed to be.

  
“We can’t meet them! Not now!!”

  
His voice rang through the dark bloody walls and the paintings shook on the wall as he stomped a single feet for further effect.

  
His childish act however was left unnoticed by his boss and the only reaction he got was a sympathetic pat on the shoulder by none other than advisor Satori, the redheaded monster of Shiratorizawa.

  
“They’re killers! Have you heard of Kageyama Tobio?! He’s a fucking maniac!! Along with all those other shitheads!!!,” Tendou scooted away, now facing the huge window.

  
Looking down at the busy city center, the people looked as if they were rushing ants, with Satori being the predator, (only under Ushijima’s control, of course.)

  
The ravenette gripped the side of his hanging shirt, and let his head hang, not in a pathetic way, but rather as if holding back himself from killing every breathing creature placed in this box like room with him.

  
He bit his lip to hold back a growl of anger before saying, “I don’t want to fucking die!! They will kill us; don’t you get it? This whole thing is a trap!”

  
Tendou stayed silent when he heard the incessant scribbling come to a curt stop.

  
Ushijima held a light grip over the numerous pages, lifting them upright before bumping the pile against his desk, organizing it more than perfectly before placing them onto the side.

  
He stood up slowly, instability flowing after him like a gown as he took a couple steps forward, gripping his gun from his desk as he did so.

  
It all happened in mere seconds, although for Goshiki it all felt like slow motion. He could move none of his limbs, nor when Ushijima approached him, nor when the gun was held against his temple.

  
“You will be there, on the meeting with Karasuno. You will be standing right next to Tendou the whole time, and you will make sure we get that damned contract the fucking Miyas stole from us!!”

  
He pushed the gun further into his skin, making the boy shudder in overwhelming fear.

  
“Am I understood?” The usually deadly calm voice deepened whilst voicing this question and Tsutomu knew he couldn’t oppose.

  
“Yes.”

  
The gun was thrusted against his head once more, now a lot harsher than before.

  
Goshiki’s hands were shaking as he turned the knob, and a cloud of fear engulfed the inside of his head when he heard Ushijima’s voice for a last time.

  
“And Goshiki?,” The said male looked back, over his shoulder, “know your place.-

  
-it would be such a pity to see Shirabu go, especially for you.”

  
His blood ran cold and he felt a sharp pain piercing his heart, ‘heart attack?, no.’, and he nodded softly, mouth completely dry.

  
“I understand.” He said weakly.

  
Tsutomu saw Tendou glance at Ushijima uncertainly from besides the glassed wall, and although throughout pointing buzzing sound, Goshiki heard the boss say, “Good.” Before he left the room.

  
He dragged his feet along the carpeted flooring and took a few turns until he reached the dorm he was forced to use as living space.

  
His hands smoothened the sheets as he sat down.

  
A trembling hand loosened an inky striped tie and with that, Tsutomu Goshiki leant back, and fainted.

~


	2. Flightless birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m perfectly aware that this story is an AtsuHina fanfic and not a Goshiki x Shirabu fic, but 1) AtsuHina slowly but surely is coming, and 2) the G x S relationship is well needed for the lovely readers to understand what’s going on within Shiratorizawa. This is quite important plot wise😊
> 
> Also huge apologies for the upcoming angst ;-;

Semi’s heart shrunk upon seeing the familiar faces of the Karasuno advisor team standing tall alongside Daichi Sawamura.

The Shiratorizawa-Karasuno meet up was held in a massive conference room, with about four hundred people filling it up to the very brim and as much as this would’ve been the perfect place to change their strategy for the better, to Semi’s major dismay, the Shiratorizawa lineup was kept the same old;

The higher ups were organized in a perfect line with each holding about twenty soldiers under their command, (Semi as well standing in the furthest corner of the room with his own twenty), whilst Ushijima and advisor Tendou stood with their chins tilted in the very middle.

It did seem like an overhyped thing to put two hundred ready to kill, but after working under Ushijima for years now, Semi knew better.

He knew perfectly well how their backup teams were just outside the fire escape and he also knew that their spies had bugged Karasuno weeks before the meetup.

The fact that snipers were scattered all around the second floor didn’t help in trusting this meet and greet either.

On the opposite side were Karasuno, with their leader, Sawamura, and advisor Koushi, advisor Chikara as well as advisor Asahi following closely behind.

Unlike Shiratorizawa, they held their usual ’W’ shaped arrangement, Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio each leading their own forty, on both side of Daichi, whilst other squad leaders barely got ten soldiers.

To Karasuno, it really was all about familiarity.

Semi saw Tendou and the Karasuno advisor team bow lowly before the leaders sat down around a massive circle table.

He could barely hear what was going on there, since he was the last commander in line, but from the sudden murmuring in Shouyou’s team, he guessed something was about to go terribly wrong.

By the clouded eyes of both Shirabu and Goshiki, who stood on either side of the boss, with their soldiers, Semi knew that they held commands of killing from even before the meeting started.

He eyed a Karasuno corporal with short blond hair and glasses, who was way too engaged in watching Tendou take a laptop from Karasuno’s hacker mastermind, to notice the Shiratorizawa soldiers already grabbing their guns and the snipers slipping into position beyond the barriers of the second floor.

He lifted a silent hand to his earpiece, still gazing the crow, and spoke into the mic with a careful, low voice.

“It’s a trap.”

The static’s crack mixed with the first air cutting woosh of a sniper’s shot from behind Semi, which was directed at advisor Chikara.

Sugawara’s eyes grew in horror as he watched Ennoshita fall in almost slow motion and collide with the ground with a loud thud, darkened chunks of blood getting tagged along the torn flesh and the freshly pouring red.

Semi’s eyes got drawn to Hinata Shouyou’s now shaking frame, who tugged at his orange locks with a trembling hand, pupils shrinking in a desperate need of vendetta.

Sugawara stared at a once grey shirt turn red, before marching to the table and shrieking a “What the actual fuck!!”

Ushijima stood up just as abruptly, slamming his palms against the table and pushing the chair out from behind him with such force that it rolled over for a few meters before coming to a full stop.

“Fucking birds can’t even keep their words, can they?” He yelled back, unreadable look pained on his face.

“What are you talking about???” Sugawara said in major bewilderment, “you have the information right on the pc besides of you-“

“It’s a terminated contract for fuck sake! It can’t even be held against us on court.”

Ushijima’s madly yell broke the peace and as if on perfect cue, soldiers met death under the count of seconds.

Daichi’s eyes caught Suga’s darkened ones as he grabbed onto his hand, pulling away from the table and rushing in between commander Kageyama’s and Hinata’s squad, Asahi following closely behind.

Meanwhile the laptop with all its information was tossed aside and Ushijima walked out the room, changing places with the squad waiting outside.

Tendou however was not escorted outside, he barely even had something he could call a gun, not even mentioning the lack of ammunition.

Kageyama had his hand pointing to various segments of the room, explaining his lieutenants what must be done, whilst Hinata used a completely different method.

He let his squad roam wild, with only one command; Shoot as many superiors as you can.

His tangerine locks bounced as he pushed himself onto the table, ironically enough, towering above Shiratorizawa with his arm completely stretched ahead, gun facing advisor Tendou.

Semi lead his group behind the table, near Karasuno, trying to push them back from it with no success.

Some of the recruits fell without even reaching the behind table safety and so there was a long drag of lifeless bodies signaling the path his squad came.

He found his gaze scooting from a person to another, then settling on the commander as Hinata pulled the trigger with little to no hesitation.

There was something faintly sick about Karasuno’s two head generals.

They were each other’s polar opposites, as Hinata was a rather warm, spontaneous and ecstatic servant of death, whilst Kageyama ruled coldly and rationally, more like a knowing dictator.

But there was just something awfully similar about them that Semi couldn’t quite put his hand on.

_Raw motivation? Might as well be that._

And then, in the corner of Semi’s sight, there was Goshiki.

A hopeless romantic forced into living a life he wanted nothing to do with. A talented writer from a good family who tangled himself into a mess, only death would do him apart with.

A mafia trusted who fell for another.

He trembled down after he’d pushed Tendou out of the way, holding his bleeding stomach with a screeching Shirabu gripping into his frame, trying to hold up his fellow commander whilst drenching his dark bowl cut with salty drops of pain. 

Hinata didn’t even bat an eye at that.

His posture proudly swayed with adrenaline, lacking his usual bubbly self, gun firing shot after shot.

Emotions drained from his face – and after the whole ordeal, some injured soldiers and even a couple snipers swore, they saw their commanders grow demonic wings – as he ruled over the center of the room.

Hinata’s steps were soundless when he paced over the desk, dying men trying to grab at his limbs, which he only shrugged off harshly, slamming the heal of his combat boots into a few lucky one’s heads in order to keep them down.

He dragged his thump across his lower lip, drawing a short smudge of red.

Parallel to Shouyou, on the second floor, Kageyama with only five in his trace, sent a couple far combat soldiers into a death fall as the second flour was a lot higher than the first.

Hinata saw red, pure red with the picture of Ennoshita Chikara, his friend and family, carved into his brain.

But they were outmanned. Dreadfully outmanned.

Supporting Shiratorizawa and their ally’s, Johzenji’s, groups were minute by minute flowing into the room and from where Semi was fighting, he knew Karasuno would have to run, even with their otherworldly superiors.

There’s only one thing which made the yakuza of crackheads, they called Johzenji, a terrific opponent.

This thing was the fact that Johzenji had the military police wrapped around their fingers, and so had information about each of the eight major groups of Tokyo that would better be left unsaid.

A single path was left for Karasuno to escape through, and that lead to the roof, which Nekoma guarded with the limited people they sent to Karasuno’s help.

Kuroo Tetsurou shook hands with Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi as the three remaining leads fell out the roof stairs.

“How much more are we expecting”, Kuroo asked, eyeing the gathering Johzenji foxes under the building.

Daichi thought for a minute, “Did Kiyoko’s team manage to get out?”

“Yeh, She had six behind her.” Kuroo nodded, remembering how he let Yaku take them to safety.

“Then we’re awaiting three- two.” Daichi correct himself as he saw Tsukishima with his unharmed ten jogging up the stairs.

Never in his life before did Suga feel like a minute was forever. Now though, he could have sworn his hair was grayening in stress with every second he didn’t have his two boys in sight.

“Daichi,” The said man hummed calmly, though Suga could clearly see the way his eyebrows were furrowed, “what will I do if I lose them both.”

Daichi’s eyes searched Suga for any sign of a mental breakdown, which thankfully enough, he didn’t find necessary to worry about just yet.

“They’re tough boys, they somehow managed to live even before we took them in. I’m more than sure there won’t be any problems. Look!” He pointed to the stairs, where Kageyama Tobio rushed out with only two missing from his squad and a single badly injured soldier.

Immediately Suga jumped into his arms and tagged Tobio’s head to rest on his shoulders, making Kuroo smirk at Kenma who inspected the events from besides him.

“Why don’t you ever greet us like that? You _are_ like Sugawara here, the mother of our group too.”

Kenma’s face twisted into a frown, “Dare calling me that ever again and I will not hesitate to send Bokuto-san a nude.”

Kuroo gasped at that.

“You wouldn’t dare!!”

“Watch me, bitch.”

Kageyama pushed Suga away silently, giving the silver haired man’s hand a reassuring squeeze before turning to Asahi, “Hinata was still on the first floor when we left, most of his team are still actively trying to keep the path clear for him, but he said he’s not willing to come up just yet.”

“Don’t tell me he’s going after Tendou.” Asahi breathed, the urge to puke creeping into his stomach that very minute.

Kageyama casted him a look, that spoke more than a million words.

The air got knocked from Daichi as he saw the last squad return throughout the stairs, without their commander.

In Suga’s blurred sight, he could spot the bouncing tangerine peeking at him from heads under his crew, yet the childishly beaming boy faded just before he could reach him.

Hinata’s first lieutenant, Yamaguchi, commanded the roof door closed and the recruits pushed it in with all their force while Kuroo and Daichi kept the shrieking and tossing Sugawara back from doing something he’d surely regret later.

“He lost his earpiece, but I saw him chase after Tendou. He singlehandedly killed like seven foxes to open up a window.”

Suga’s sobs grew harsher against Daichi’s chest when Yamaguchi’s words reached him.

The lack of Hinata Shouyou’s presence thickened the already suffocating air.

For so long Karasuno imagined their superiors as these undefeatable demons, and yet here they were, missing not only an advisor, but their most talented fighter as well.

Kenma chirped up from behind his phone;

“Shouyou headed North, he isn’t stupid,” He showed a map into Suga’s face with a flashing red mark signaling Hinata’s whereabouts, “I put a tracker into his bike, he’s following the Johzenji escape routes.”

Kuroo’s eyes casted to the door, then back to the crew.

“Let’s get moving, Hinata’s on a mission, but we’ll never be on one again if we don’t start evacuating right now.”

They moved onto the neighbor roof without any hardships and pulled the planks they used as a bridge to their side just in time with before the door was thrusted ajar.

This was the only building Nekoma could protect and so it took an awful lot of effort to fully empty it, especially now, when they had no time to lose.

They filled the remaining few SUVs that awaited them in the garage and left without the Shiratorizawa guarding teams noticing.

This was one misfortunate event that surely will be remembered as a great loss for Karasuno.

Hinata slipped through a barely open window, his tiny frame proving to be quite helpful at times like these.

The Shiratorizawa safety house was lifeless. Only a few guards roamed the halls mindlessly, but even they got tired and gathered into the lobby to enjoy a game of rummy instead.

It was a small building with square shaped windows and maze like hallways, the flickering street lights laying onto the carped with only Hinata’s shadow cutting into it every once he skipped from a room to another.

He still felt the arteries in his heart dismount their job whenever Ennoshita’s ghost took shape afore Hinata and his body still wavered at the littlest spark of hope.

He followed muddy prints and marched into random rooms, humoring himself with the way the guards missed his presence.

Since this quest was completely spontaneous, Hinata had no maps, no extra ammo, basically he had nothing besides a raw sense for murder that would help him kill a genius.

Absurdly enough, whilst searching for advisor Tendou, (more like a kid looking for his mother, than a hitman hunting his prey,) the warmer Miya twin popped into his mind.

Did he purposely give Hinata the wrong papers? Well, he should have known something was up with the way he at last got hold of them.

_‘This is what you get for getting distracted under work hours!_ ’ Shouyou scolded himself as, much like a cat, he slipped into what seemed to be a janitor’s equipment room.

He was just about to move forward when Shouyou became aware of the sharp push against the skin over his downer larynx.

Huge brown orbs jumped at the sudden presence against his body, “ _Oh?_ ”

That man was definitely not Shiratorizawa material with his messy, semi long raven curls and the medical mask thrown over his features. Then Hinata’s eyes traveled further down, taking in the two fish engraved just a little above the male’s collar.

_Two fish.. balance.._ “The Miyas?”

The blade was tilted, yet pressed more now and with a single gulp, Hinata’d be a goner for sure.

He reached for his glove, pulling it of with his teeth, eyes calm against the masked one’s lazed gaze. Hinata tucked the knot that kept the gauze over his hand, undone and proceed in wrapping out his palm, showing an inked crow into the other’s aura.

The knife was gone and Shouyou was tugged further into the room, breathing against the cold on his hands, before rolling the gauze onto his skin again, pulling the cloth over it once done.

“Aren’t the crows on a meeting now?” The ravenette asked, scrunching down only to squint at his phones suddenly way too luminous screen, eyeing an interior map.

Hinata shrugged nonchalantly, “The Shiratorizawas are there too,” plopping down besides the male, the tangerine threw a hearty grin his way, “the real question is why _you_ are here.”

There was an odd thread laced with the boy’s words, and an even weirder pressure of using the correct vocabulary around Hinata Shouyou, (even if he could never be considered an Einstein.)

The answer was simple, yet just as satisfactory, “the advisor.”

“How nice,” Hinata hummed, “me alike.”

Gloom fell over the room as the man stuffed the phone into a back pocket, their eyes gleaming under sifted streetlighting.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“Hinata Shouyou.”

Hinata had to admit how much easier everything went with Sakusa by his side. Just the map itself was a massive help and then again, Sakusa could always surprise Shouyou once it came to combat.

The spiked tuffs of red came sooner than they both expected, with only ten guards, in the public kitchen harshly munching on Nutella creamed muffin. 

Sakusa skipped ahead, signaling Hinata into position, both standing behind the half lidded door.

A sudden gush of blood splashed across Tendou’s face, as well as across the muffin, when Sakusa took out the guard besides him.

Behind the windows a new day has just started, stray clouds pushed under the inked sky and nearby churches sung their midnight lullabies.

Long before Hinata even met Sakusa, he’d slipped into a tired headspace, his body only working because of the sudden shock of loss. The gun felt heavy, yet his feet felt heavier, as he moved into the room with his Glock sending death ever second second.

The advisor was moved into a corner, only two guards afore him. Sakusa tossed the small dining table in the center so its surface was facing the incoming bullets and pulled Hinata under its safety, just for the time they changed ammo.

Hinata however hissed when he found no ammunition in any of its usual holders. His eyes searched the door they came in as he pulled the dried bloody ends of his suit pants up to his shin, revealing a hidden stash of mini knives wrapped around each ankles, a thing he’d learned from Kenma years back.

He held one in each space between his fingers on both hands whilst he eyed the enemy’s reflection on the metallic doors.

Then once he saw a slip up with their revolvers getting overheated for just a mere moment, in lightning speed, Hinata jumped from behind the safety of the table and sent three of the knives in each person’s throat.

His tangerine locks bounced in discomfort when he took notice of the three blades stuck into the advisor’s forearm, which was shown over his neck just before Shouyou could’ve done anything.

He didn’t even catch himself getting mad over the whole ordeal that today was, when his own screeching rung in Hinata’s ears, “Why can’t you just die already??”

Then his head snapped back, parallel to the door getting yanked open.

Shirabu skipped in, looking like one who’d just arose from the dead’s lane, dark smudges of a bloody handprint over his face which stopped little under his eyes. He must’ve cried that part clean.

Sakusa’s ears weren’t specialized to killing, and Hinata knew that from even the little time they spent together today, so he wasn’t surprised to see Shirabu’s bullet tear the skin of his shoulder.

Shouyou pulled his lips in distaste; _Ouch! That must’ve hurt a lot!!_

He should’ve just completed his vendetta, then and there. He should’ve but he didn’t.

As hard as it was to comprehend, Ennoshita Chikara was dead, and Sakusa Kiyoomi was not, although they did stand under the fear of a bleed out or nonetheless a major infection.

Amber eyes skipped from Tendou’s scrunching frame to where Sakusa painted a line of vibrant red onto eggshell walls and then to a pained blonde who just stood in the doorway, sobbing his heart out.

Hinata was confused. He was confused the moment Sakusa lied his weight onto him, he was confused when the shuttering glass he’d just hit with the butt of his Glock, slit an open line under his lip, the exact same place he got painted with another’s blood on the Shiratorizawa meeting.

He knew what he should’ve done, yet his heart dictated elsewhat. If he stayed he could’ve killed both the blonde and the advisor, yet another death would weight his ever growing guilt.

He did what Ennoshita would’ve told him to do; save the savable and retreat. So with that spinning the wheels of his mind, Hinata Shouyou jumped from the first floor window with an injured Sakusa thrown over his back, his legs throbbing at the sharp contact of the concrete.

The piercing cry of the blonde “You killed him!!” traced his jump and haunted Hinata even after he rolled over to protect the Miya spy from further injuries.

That’s right, now he remembered the bowl cut taking the shot back at the Shiratorizawa trade. _They must- must’ve loved each other very much._

It was a ghosted alleyway which Hinata had never ever seen before. He suddenly could feel all he butchered today surround him as he pulled himself and Sakusa into a corner. Only the moon smiled at him from above.

_‘A far away friend’,_ Hinata though with grand chocolate eyes searching over Sakusa for the phone he’d seen him use before. The cut on his lower lip stung like hell, but the exhaustion scraping his eyes hurt even more.

Hinata gripped Sakusa closer to himself as he clicked the only emergency contact in Sakusa’s phone, his never before felt sense of claustrophobia making the ginger hairs on his back stand salute.

The white gauze from his hands was now soaked red against the spy’s shoulder, as Hinata pressed it carefully, shaking hand letting the phone rest against his mushy cheeks.

The ringing felt forever and, in all honesty,, Hinata never thought he could be this happy at hearing a familiar voice, even if the person had a death wish coming their way because of the terminated contract.

The single “Yes?” cut up Hinata’s insides, now the guard he tried for so long to keep fell, and his eyes watered at the honey voice. Shouyou hugged the now unconscious Sakusa closer to himself, suddenly feeling like a lost puppy.

“Atsumu?” He asked weakly, aware of the alarmed Shiratorizawa teams searching the streets with a newborn furry for not only Hinata but the Miya Twin corps as well.

He did not say more, he just couldn’t. His own voice felt far away, his throat was dry, and his blood tinted lips couldn’t form around the words he wanted to say. Weirdly, for the first time in his life, Hinata was so tired, he missed everything and everyone.

“Stay there, I’m coming.”


	3. About the Miyas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata has a lazy morning with Atsumu, and Osamu learns upsetting news from Aone which changes his perpective on the idea of an alliance with a certain yakuza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just notice that instead of Johzenji, the Miyas shoul've been the foxes, but I guess it's too late now ;-;

Miya Atsumu came into Hinata Shouyou’s life like a calming summer rain above dried grounds. He was rational, collected and for what the boy liked most, he was the most caring person he’d ever met, (excluding Suga of course.)

Ironically enough, the mafia leader provided Hinata a sense of peace which for some reason no one but him could give. There was a continuously radiating warmth around those quirky eyes, which searched the tangerine’s every move with raw interest.

Even in the depts of giving into exhaustion, in a lonesome corner of an abandoned alley, with a bleeding man in his embrace, those puppy eyes lit ablaze when catching sight of the dyed locks and concerned eyes he’d yearned to see.

A relieved smile found its way onto his lips, stretching and eventually tearing the cut again. Hinata literally bled in utter gleam.

When at last Sakusa’s body was lifted off of his small frame, and he was picked up with no effort at all, he felt even tinier in Atsumu’s arms.

Only later did Shouyou learn that the Miyas have hijacked the entire building, which really was not much considering the facility’s lack of size. Still, the metaphoric importance of a team stealing another’s safehouse was shouting war, which knowing the Shiratorizawa leaders, they were happy to oblige.

Osamu took the lead with a slow pace, directing several commanders into the mazed hallways, they really were not holding back this time. There was not a single sign of hesitance on the twin’s face as he held his Beretta 92 to the heads of those few superiors they met on their walk.

Yet truth be told, the building was full of nobodies and it was clear that Tendou and the blonde commander had already bailed the scene.

The Miyas did not like killing. To cut off any misunderstandings, it is important to note that they did give great importance to death, its persuasion powers were remarkable, they just didn’t like taking lives for fun.

Now as well, the twins found it wiser to have Osamu lead the operation, Miya Atsumu’s sudden fire of anger proving to be dangerous when placed in such a high position.

So, whilst Osamu was having the time of his life, killing as much Shiratorizawa rats as his ethics let him, Atsumu was squatting at a dead end, fingers curling around tuffs of orange as he shushed the boy in his hold.

They were almost complete strangers with only how many times the two had seen each other, but there was an undeniable comfort they found in only one another’s presence.

Hinata breathed the sweet cologne in, stuffing his face against the elder’s chest, the long dark trench coat falling over him as if protective.

His breaths were small and even, arms clenched behind Atsumu’s neck as he carried Hinata towards a matte black car.

Atsumu carefully tugged the door open, laying him onto the front seat, finger hovering over the cut on his lips with concern, and a petrifyingly overprotective glint caught Hinata’s hooded attention.

Hinata watched Atsumu kneel before him, pulling a pack of baby wipes from under the seat, - which left Hinata uncomfortably confused as to why he even had those there – and tore the lidding paper open, pulling out a wet tissue.

The moist cloth felt strange against Hinata’s dirty skin, but he didn’t complain. Atsumu wiping of the dried blood from his lip was such an intimate moment, Shouyou caught himself reddening feverishly.

Then the warmth was gone, the tissue was tossed aside and Atsumu was gone.

_Oh._

For a minute Hinata almost forgot who the man was, hell, he even forgot who _he_ was. Atsumu was the owner of a mafia Karasuno hated with a burning passion and Hinata was an infamous assassin as well as a potential inheritor of Karasuno as he was, along with Kageyama Tobio, an adopted son of Sugawara and Daichi.

But there it was again, the warmth. He felt it when Atsumu slipped into the drivers seat, he felt it when Osamu appeared and the two held light conversation over the quest’s wins and losses and he felt it even in his sleep, when Atsumu carried him into what Hinata assumed was one of many penthouses owned by them.

He just could not get over the phenomenon that Miya Atsumu was for him.

Hinata awoke freezing, fists clenched against cloud like fluffs of sheets. His eyes skipped over the room’s nice yet quite plain design. The walls were beige and other than the huge king-sized bed, the only other furniture was a dark iron framed mirror and a single bar seat in front of it. 

A small vase rested on the chair, with a single jubilant sunflower laying on its clearly overused surface.

Shouyou ruffled his orange hair, which felt sticky against his cold fingers. As he pulled the sheets off himself, Hinata noticed that instead of yesterday’s formal wear, he only had a _very_ oversized vine colored hoodie on and some loose shorts.

He had a very strange feeling, a lack of important fabric to be precise. Hinata tugged the hoodie up a bit and peeked under the shorts only to confirm the absence of his boxers or any undergarment for that matter.

_‘Well then’_

It was clearly still early, as the Sun’s first rays had just reached Hinata’s face, stroking it ethereally, dismissing the cold of the room. It was a beautiful morning as no clouds stained the sky’s deep blue Shouyou felt thrilled to start the day.

He climbed off the bed, clumsily enough to lose his balance and plop onto his arms as he did so. He winced against his hand, holding it against his lip as he strolled out of the room, taking over every bit of this new scenery with those huge cocoa eyes.

“Well someone’s up at last,” A singsong voice beamed from somewhere.

Hinata rubbed his eyes, randomly walking into the next door of the hallway. It was a luminous room, with huge windows and a single dark desk in the middle, Miya Atsumu peering up from behind it.

There too, almost scarily, on the edge of the desk was a nicely decorated, tall porcelain vase with a couple joy colored flowers peeking out.

Unlike the few times Hinata’d seen Atsumu before, instead of the long trench coat and black attire, (save for that one time in the bar when his clothes were everything but formal,) he had a tawny turtleneck and ripped black jeans with simple dark sneakers.

Whilst Shouyou took in the unusual sight of Miya Atsumu under the pressure of an overwhelming amount of paperwork, the man’s eyes skid over Hinata’s built curves and semi exposed thighs.

The reddish hoodie reached only his mid thighs, completely falling over the shorts, which proved to be utterly unnecessary as they could not even be seen.

Hinata lifted and lowered himself on his exposed feet, as he couldn’t find any socks in sight, tangerine locks bouncing softly.

“Soo.. Do you like sunflowers?” He asked, the cut on his lip stinging with every word he voiced.

He watched Atsumu lean back in his seat, lifting his eyebrows and displaying a heartfelt grin.

“What’s with the sudden interrogation?” The real source of his amusement however was the fact that this orange haired boy just woke up in a stranger’s home and the first thing he asks is a stupid question about whether the mafia boss likes a certain flower.

Hinata Shouyou is really something else.

“Well I just thought you liked them since there was one in the other room too.” He said, pointing with his slim index to the entrance of the bedroom.

Hinata’s voice was so unsure, innocent even that Atsumu had to force a coo from finding its way out his throat.

“I inherited a sunflower oil company from my uncle at the age of four, so we have hundreds of fields of ‘em.” He shrugged, turning back to inspect some papers before tossing them aside in precise stocks.

Hinata hummed in acknowledgement, still rocking on his feet and playing with his fingers. Atsumu could sense the discomfort and so naturally he looked up from his work with his usual charming smile, “Do ya like them?”

There was hesitance in Shouyou’s answer, the sudden feeling of complete emptiness in his stomach making a grumpy sound, “I guess you could say that. I love their color, but they’re usually taller than me and that makes me mad.”

Atsumu chuckled, his eyes turning into crescents, _could this kid be any cuter?_

“That’s adorable,” He mumbled, dragging his gaze back onto the stocks of paper, “Are you hungry?”

Hinata was more than grateful that the man gave no remarks to the animal like sounds coming from his tummy. He nodded and then, when at last he noticed that Atsumu could not have possibly seen him do so, he said a small, ‘Yes.’

Atsumu stood from his desk carefully, signing the contract he was reading before turning his full attention on the boy, sliding and arm behind his waist to lead Hinata into the kitchen.

The mentioned room was a big, cleared space, with modern furniture and a big white polished dining table. Atsumu lifted Shouyou onto the table with ease, then turned to open the fridge, which seemed to be completely empty save for the few onigiris Osamu left here from last night.

“So we have… a few onigiris, some onigiris and if you’re really hungry we also have a little amount of onigiri.” Atsumu grinned as Hinata’s bubbly laugh rung in his ears. He took out the little food, then closed the fridge shut, walking over to the boy.

Hinata quite literally stuffed the onigiris one by one into his mouth, Atsumu let his head rest on his arms as he watched the boy eat.

It was nice eating with company. Usually by the time Shouyou got the chance to eat a proper meal, the others would be fast asleep or busy with missions. Having someone withing a two meter radius besides him was nice, nicer than he ever expected it to be.

“I could take you there someday.” Atsumu said, full focus on Hinata.

The said boy’s eyes widened into those huge puppy eyes Atsumu was so glad to see, “Where?”

The twin slid a hand over his face to hold back a yawn, smiling softly and shaking his head at once. He’d awoken just an hour before Hinata did and ever since all he did was finish the work he was supposed to do last night.

“To a sunflower field.”

Hinata had to take a minute in order to compose himself after that. “I just told you I don’t like how they’re taller than me.” He grumped, chewing on the only remaining onigiri on his plate.

“But if I pick ya up then you won’t be shorter.” The man laughed, pointing his index finder to his brain, as if signaling that it’s common knowledge.

The rest of the day went smoothly with the two wrapped up in the cloud like blanked on Miya’s couch, wrecking their schedules by watching Stars Align all day.

When at last the time for a sweet goodbye came, Hinata swiftly hopped onto his bike and Atsumu stood besides him with his hands gripping the boy’s hips close to himself.

It took a whole lot of self-control for Atsumu not to pick up the boy there and then and take him back into the safety of the apartment.

“Thinking of it, ya never really thanked me for saving your ass.” The man said, grinning against tangerine tuffs of hair.

Big brown eyes gazed Atsumu with uncertainty, “Thank you for helping,” His voice was so small and so low, that one would have to stand closer than an arm’s reach to hear it. Then he continued with a significantly whinier tone “Although I still am mad about the terminated contract.”

Atsumu lowered himself to come face to face with a flushed tangerine, “I’ll make it up to you next time.” He whispered lowly before planting a small kiss onto the boy’s cheek.

A fain red bloomed on the spot where his lips were and Hinata felt the familiar sneaky pair of hands smoother along the line of his waist before breaking the contact.

“I’ll see you soon.” Atsumu winked, then watched as Hinata skid away under the last few rays of the settling Sun.

Osamu circled the tall structure of the Miya’s entertainment company’s latest side project, with Takanobu Aone by his side.

“So, if I understand correctly, what you’re telling me is that the Fukurodani airport upgrading takes all the construction materials from our casino’s development?” He asked, hand massaging his temples, irritation written all over his features.

“Well not entirely,” Aone was way taller and well built than Osamu, but the man was in the perfect knowledge that when it came to mind games, he definitely was in a loosing lane, “Fukurodani has their own resources, we just do the building part. The problem is with what’s written on paper.”

The twin eyed the workers, running around in neon jackets on those super high structures that surrounded the only yet to be building, “And what would that be?”

Aone dropped his cigarette butt onto the ground, smashing his heels into it to lit out the small flame. His eyes bore into Osamu’s inspecting them in a way that the dyed haired man didn’t like one bit.

“The foxes keep a close eye on our legal matters, because Ushijima wants the airport and if Fukurodani got taken out they could easily get to it. We had to cut down a few lines of import to keep Johzenji from finding out about some very- unique ways of us getting our resources.”  
Osamu’s eyes darkened, he knew what the man was talking about perfectly well, but he wanted to hear it aloud.

“So that means?”

“We had to cut both Karasuno’s and your constructions a bit, just to refrain from suspicion.”

Osamu watched the busy street with half lidded eyes, smoke escaping his lips as he exhaled a doze of nicotine.

“We have the media in our hands, Aone, if you’re in a tight spot we can easily change that.”

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s not that… Our statics show that this will be a good year and I just don’t want to mess things up,” The man searched the twin for any kind of bad wish, but when he met the trusting eyes of a man whom had been his friend since early childhood, he continued,

“You and your brother should know perfectly well how much the pressure of bearing a legacy on your shoulders tend to get.”

He saw Osamu nod his head in acknowledgement. Their late mothers have been best friends and so it was only natural that in their twenties too, the Date Tech engineering company (Japan’s biggest construction business) supported the Miya corps without questions, and vice versa.

Now is a good time to mention a few quite important factors:

the Miyas rule over not only the media but also Japan’s top tier entertainment businesses and a few other brands, like Miya Atsumu’s sunflower oil side project and Miya Osamu’s onigiri brand, whilst Karasuno has hundreds of major brands under their lead, for which’s manufacturing Date Tech plays a key role in.

Then there’s Fukurodani. Now they aren’t as filthed legally as the other seven major yakuzas of Tokyo, but they could never be called innocent either.

Bokuto Koutarou, the second wealthiest person in Japan, only a couple millions after Kuroo Tetsurou, has all incomes of the public transports of Japan, plus the Fukurodani airport’s income as well, written on his many bank accounts.

This three have a constant need of upgrading and constructing to be able to keep themselves on top. And therefore, Date Tech never lacks work.

“Shiratorizawa means bad luck nowadays,” Aone said, lighting a cigarette yet again. Osamu hummed in agreement, “that advisor, Tendou, was it?”

Aone nodded, “He’s a great mind. Great but just as dangerous.”

“I couldn’t possibly agree more, my friend.” Osamu had already rolled his leather glove back, tossing the remains of his cigarette aside.

A comfortable silence took over the aura as the two men paced back towards the parking lot, where their cars were.

“What would you do in our place, Aone?” There was a small plead in his choice of tone, the question itself sticking millions of guilt needles into the mentioned man.

“I would try to give a try to a new alliance.”

There was a small fox like glint in Osamu’s orbs, his eyelids lowered, and his lips pulled into a side grin, “Well if that’s what you’d do then I guess it can’t be helped.”

Aone shook his head, chuckling as he did so, “How’s your brotha’?”

“Oh he’s good, he’s good,” They both knew what a mischievous young adult Atsumu was, so Aone was not one bit surprised when he heard Osamu attach a small side comment to his prior statement.

“He’s growing soft for some Karasuno twink he’d met a few weeks back. I wouldn’t worry much about it, he’ll get bored of him eventually.”

Aone threw his head back in deep laughter, “See? That’s just another reason to propose alliance to the crows.” He said pointedly, elbowing Osamu lightly.

The man swayed a little, a knowing grin splattered across his face, Aone mirroring his expression.

They were on the outskirts of Tokyo, with towering structures separating the city from the ever growing suburbs. If it weren’t for Johzenji, the Miya casino would be standing proudly in this exact spot in less than a year, but now, they weren’t sure when it would be called done.

They reached their cars, parting ways, Osamu walked next to his spotless, white Audi RS6, whilst Aone climbed into his own sportscar, peering at Osamu from behind darkened glasses.

He took a big turn towards the lot’s exit, then when the twin was right besides him he pulled his window down, Osamu doing likewise.

“You twins take care of yourselves, alright? You know, it’s the calm before the storm, or however the saying goes.” He threw his ashy stick of nicotine out the window, the wind catching it and tossing it for a few minutes before letting it flop into the dirt.

Osamu pulled his glasses down, from where they rested on his head, to block the afternoon rays from damaging his sight.

“And that is where you’re wrong, my friend,” He motioned his left index towards Aone in a surprisingly threatening way, yet with an effortlessly beaming smile, “The storm had already started.”

Aone held back a shaky breath, Osamu’s sudden change in attitude freaking out his very soul, “If you say so.” He muttered and rolled onto the highway back to the city.

Osamu however stayed back.

He gazed longingly at some passing clouds that had flat bottoms, but rose into hights he could only imagine. Their odd edges curved into deep blues and as much as Osamu would hate to admit, they reminded him of his mother.

Her fragile frame and the out of human reach mood swings that kept occurring without any alarm. Osamu had been with her until the very last days. He held her hand as she was bubbling absolute nonsense and he felt her ginger straws against his fingertips on that fateful morning too.

Being with Aone always reminded him of all the playdates his mother arranged for him and Atsumu to get relations in the business world.

_Well, it did pay off in the long run._

“Fuck!” He cried out, the huge parking space now way too empty for his liking.

What will they do if Date Tech won’t finish the casino in time?

He thrusted his fists against the dashboard, then relaxed his forehead on top of clenched hands, shouting all the curses he possibly knew.

This could be the downfall of the Miyas if they weren’t careful.


	4. Feel and Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa has to face disturbing news and Goshiki turnes out to be a dead man walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers block may or may not have crept upon me ever so suddenly ;-; 
> 
> Also sorry for this chap not being relatively short ://

Oikawa’s back fell against his workspace, knocking of a lamp with full force, the papers sprawled along the floor. He threw his head back, pushing his soft spot against the pair of familiar lips that sucked purplish bruises over and over the man’s neck.

_Oh_

Iwaizumi’s hand grabbed his inner thigh, deepening the sexual tension lingering withing sound proof walls.

„Lube,” Oikawa stated, rather breathed out, clumsily kicking the furthest drawer open, revealing the strawberry flavored substance.

Iwaizumi backed off to get the bottle, enjoying his current position way too much, „Off with the shirt,” he said, not even sparing another look Oikawa’s way. They both knew how much the taller liked degradation, along with the many weird kinks he had. 

Usually Oikawa would be the one bossing the ravenette around, with his position being the leader of Aoba Johsai, but withing four walls with only Iwaizumi around, he loved being commanded.

The white shirt was tossed aside in the matter of seconds, and Iwaizumi’s hands found their ways back to the toffee haired man’s thighs.

„You love this don’t you?” He grumped between passionately violent bites he milky skin, „the king being someone’s personal bitch, how ironic.”

Oikawa let out a long whiny moan, pushing against the Hajime’s hold, long dress pants suddenly too tight for his liking.

The warmth moved from his neck onto his abs, hotly moving around every inch of tense muscle and kissable flesh.

Icy cold eyes gazed into a deep tawny, „I bet you’re disgusting ass would love to have others watch you like this,”

There was a sharp intake of breath, Oikawa now completely sprawled out on top of the desk, legs bent around his lover’s back, his eyes closed shut, „to see what a needy piece of shit you really are.”

Oikawa’s voice was dragged and needy as he muffled a breathy ‘Iwa-chan please’ against the cloth of his own shirt that _Iwa-chan_ had used to shut him up, (not like he didn’t like the voices coming from his superior.)

Oikawa by all means was high on Iwaizumi’s touch. He felt dizzy just thinking of what the next couple of minutes will bring within, and his limbs shook in overwhelming excitement.

His mind was blank besides the satisfactory touches, as he wanted to just _feel._

To feel how the pair of harsh palms move further upwards, how his composure went looser with each and every passing second, how moaning _Iwa-chan_ ’s dumb nickname felt and how the sudden weight of realty pressured his mind in pain when the door was yanked ajar.

“For fucks sake!” He shouted, not minding one bit how his whole body was completely exposed to whomever decided to bother his lunchbreak.

The door held a perfect view to whatever was happening on the desk; Iwaizumi buried in between milky thighs, looking up from behind Oikawa, who had his head hung back, staring at the entrance with irritated eyes, back still laying smoothly along the surface of his desk and legs still spread on either side of the ravenette.

The newcomer however was not one bit phased by the act, he didn’t even blink as he walked further in, slamming a thick folder just inches from Oikawa’s head, the latter pushing Iwa-chan away and at last closing his legs.

He messily threw his shirt on, yanking the tie almost reflexively into place, then tucking the wrinkled white cloth into the dark pants which got thrusted away just minutes ago.

“Aish, the amount of disrespect y’all have for me…” He spat pointedly; huge childishly beaming eyes turned onto Kunimi’s darkened gaze.

“We have a small problem with the airport, Koutarou is here to discuss.” At this Oikawa’s eyes too lost their shine. Loosing the airport would be a huge loss for not only Fukurodani but Aoba Johsai too.

He plopped onto his feet, immediately marching out the door, but not before throwing a gleaming grin and a small kiss Iwa-chan’s way.

Oikawa was cool. That’s a simple fact that every one of his recruits knew, even those who didn’t work directly under him, but rather known him from all the lieutenants he had collected throughout his years.

This coolness however couldn’t blinden the fact that everything that Aoba Johsai is today, was all thanks to Oikawa Tooru.

The hallways went silence as his low heels clicked against cracking wooden floor, hair sticking in every way possible, hands smothering the fabric of his sleeves.

Upon entering the conference room, every lieutenant stood up, from both the Fukurodani counselor team and the Aoba Johsai one.

“Hey hey hey!!” Came the agitated greeting of Bokuto Koutarou,who literally sprung up from his seat.

Oikawa smirked smugly, eyeing the head advisor besides Koutarou, “and you brought pretty-kun too. What a lovely surprise.” He hummed, finally settling to his place.

“Nice to see you again, Oikawa.” Akaashi replied smoothly, every single syllable dropping from his tongue like an ode from heavens. Being the fashion icon Bokuto had decided to fell in love with, he wore a simple, loose, lowcut blouse with dark striped dress pants, (similar to Oikawa’s.) 

His turquoise orbs ran back and forth between Oikawa’s eyes and his neck, but he let the thought of something _very_ inappropriate slide, as he had no mental energy after taking care of a brain fried Bokuto for days.

The leaders’ gazes locked for a while. It seemed Koutarou was especially fidgety today and Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder if that’s just another side of his ever occurring mood swings or the problem really is that big.

By now Iwaizumi too circled the round table, seating himself in the line of trusteds.

“Well let’s begin, shall we?” Oikawa’s baby smile only lasted as long as saying that, which terrified the living soul out of every one of his employees. Him being mad was something that everyone tried to refrain from seeing.

“Our spies have been gathering information on both Shiratorizawa and Johzenji for months now, so now we can clearly state that were facing difficulties,” Akaashi started, bending just a bit towards Bokuto to take a probably over half thousand pages file, only to pass it over to Oikawa, who impatiently, yet just as seriously glanced over a few random pages.

“Lately there have been numerous incidents regarding Ushijima, but Johzenji always backed them up law wise,” A small, annoyed hum escaped the toffee haired man’s throat, “Based on trustable resources, we have just enough signs to see that their next target will be the airport.”

There was another row of seats behind the people who matter, which was usually empty, considering the secrecy of the here shared words, yet now a sudden wave of worried murmurs broke out amongst the there placed (mostly guest) members.

“Now of course, we wouldn’t feel the need to contact you right away with a case like this, but it seems that they’re trying to take the airport away with the force of law.”

Oikawa turned his chin upwards, watching as the lamp above flickered every now and then. A frown of distaste settled on his bitten lips, his pupils shrunk to the size of a crazy man’s.

Johzenji was a real pain in the ass when it came to legal action. Because of the governmental support they got, it was basically impossible to go against them with blood dried hands, and Oikawa knew that from experience.

His own legal company was one known worldwide. They held the cases of countless celebrities and politicians, sometimes not even for money, but for intimate information that they would simply always use later on.

“And why exactly would they count as a thread for us?”

Akaashi’s caring blues locked with those maniac toffees as Oikawa let his sight linger on his face expectantly.

“Yes, I suppose that is an essential question,” The man leaned back in his seat, Bokuto eyeing him from besides, with his head resting on muscly arms, gelled grey tuffs falling into sharp, powerholding eyes, “They’re trying to reopen older cases, such as the _bird incident_ from eighteen years ago.”

_The bird case…_

Something no one would dare to mention to any of the big powers of Tokyo.

It all happened before Shiratorizawa was even a thing, when instead of the now known eight, only five ruled over the city.

If anyone knew what really happened back then, the least they could agree on was that blaming any of the groups for it was just straight up dumb and unreasonable. It was also a time when the Fukurodani, Karasuno families’ bond was blooming like never before.

At that time Bokuto was only a schoolboy, with the highest hopes of inheriting what his father had built up from ashes of prior fails. It was also the time when he’d met an especially gloomy ravenette and a super jumpy tangerine.

They were small, really small. The sudden wave of hunger and death washed over their family too when Sugawara found them. They both suffered from selective amnesia, and up till this very day, it is unsure whether they really are or at least were related at all.

Not many dare to talk about the two’s _‘before’_ as Suga had made it very clear how the two now are considered part of the Karasuno legacy and _are_ also his children, which is hilarious considering their age gap is only seven years.

Ever since meeting them, Bokuto had grown a sweet spot for the kids, especially Shouyou. He was only three back then, and even so, they understood each other on a very deep level. The elder stood a role model to Hinata, with them being almost five years apart. 

“We’ll take the case from here,” The room’s whispers lowered as Oikawa used his most serious tone; cold and yet so composed, “clearly if it’s a legal thing, it’s our job to protect the airport.”

That statement itself held such raw, simple meaning, even a baby could easily understand what the man meant by that.

The Fukurodani – Aoba Johsai alliance was built up on the fact that Bokuto needed a good legal background and Oikawa was keen on achieving better income. Their contract stood of only two pages, which withheld that thirty percent of only the airport’s incomes would go to Aoba Johsai, in exchange for safety law wise.

It was a good deal, and both knew that.

They knew where each other had come from and the two respected each other’s professional needs. It was a perfect symbiosis.

Akaashi, Bokuto and Oikawa stood up, to shake hands. Oikawa rested his bad knee on his seat, while leaning over to the two, Bokuto’s honey orbs gleamed with relief at the feel of Oikawa’s palm; the seal on their agreement on safety.

Recommended playlist.:

Lana del rey- Brooklyn baby

Milky chance- stolen dance (preferably slowed)

Everything was blank.

There was no pain, no metallic taste of dripping red from one’s inner bleads, no chilling shrieks of a loved one; nothing.

He could see some passing smudges of grey on the whites afore him and felt an engulfing sense of peace weighting down on his very being.

_Is this what death feels like?_

What an odd sensation.

‘I would have sworn I’d go to hell.’ The cloud of thought wavered over his head like the cold water his mother had poured on his young self on an early Sunday morning, back in their small countryside cottage, in order to wake him up.

The countryside: the place he’d yarned to see the most now. Every summer, Goshiki’s parents would flee to France, to this haunted small house to enjoy the violently soothing aroma of fresh lavender.

His train of thoughts now moved onto the euphoria of running over that field, back and forth, back and forth.

Oh, how much he’d love to take Shirabu there sometime. Just hold his delicate, ivory hands as they pace along the coast, with a checkered red blanket and a basket of homemade bread and fresh dill sauce, the sun warming them with the few stray rays that would sift through the sheep clouds running from the sunset.

Then when the last of gold vanished, they’d go inside the small structure, light a single oil lamp and he’d watch the blond’s reactions to all the sweetest whispers he’d murmur to him before falling into deep slumber.

Shirabu, his first and last love, his soulmate, his other half, the man he misses the most and the man he wished to die alongside; and yet here he was, the taste of morphine hitting his senses, a sudden need to let his tears flow free taking over him, the priorly mentioned wight of peace abruptly getting pushed off of him as he practically yanked the white cloth away from covering his face.

And then the mourn of being alive held back those aggressively pushing tears from falling. Goshiki was unable to feel at the moment. He was confused, betrayed, yarned to feel like in the cottage again, but most importantly felt an essential need of those ivory hands and long, smooth skinned fingers against his own flesh.

He was placed lying on a small, white bed, limbs all over the place and a huge vine splash on the hospital gown he was put into.

The dark bangs that would normally cover his forehead, were swept aside as he gazed longingly at the blurry outside view.

He should’ve known, a white afterlife to him was way too good to be true, nonetheless the wish of death grew unbearably heavy in his stomach.

The room was small, gloomy and gave off a naturally depressing vibe. The fact that he had white lilies await him in a see through vase with probably stagnant water, didn’t help cheering him on either. Somewhy being alive hurt him more than as if he had died.

“Did I succeed in resurrecting you? I’m such a god.”

Semi sat in the corner on one of those ugly, plastic chairs that they use in makeshift hospital rooms. He wore a loose gray shirt and stretch dark denim pants with his usual polished black shoes and had a soft smirk on display.

Goshiki didn’t reply, he just laid there, motionless, empty eyes taking in a seemingly exhausted Semi, who had deep, dark circles under his eyes. He still couldn’t feel his body, the morphine was doing magic to his senses.

“Most think you’re dead,” The man went deep in thought before looking out the window with a guilted frown, “You were ten minutes ago.”

A pleasant rush of air, that ran from the window out the door, caressed Goshiki’s emotion free face, the tips of his ears feeling cold against the unfamiliar sheets.

Semi could see the pain form those drugged dark eyes, “You know, Shirabu had been here ever since they’d fetched you up, they wouldn’t let him in sooner. I told him he should refrain from being obvious but I’m pretty sure at this point Ushijima knows already…”

Yet again, the dirty blond averted his gaze, to the small space on Goshiki’s left and the man felt a sudden need to look there too.

His circulation was starting to come back alive, the tips of his fingers, although still senseless, trying to get accustomed to not being stiff anymore.

Then as abruptly as he’d woken up, Goshiki _felt_ again.

He smelled the faint sweets of lavender, he felt an uncertain grip around his palm, and he saw a blond mop of hair buried into the uncomfortably stiff sheets.

Every syllable he spoke ached his throat, yet he was keen on voicing the man’s name, he _had_ to.

The small “Shirabu…” he let out was quiet, and his voice broke two times before being able to speak correctly.

Semi watched with anticipation as Shirabu blinked himself awake, eyes growing in joyous surprise, and pupils widening with adoration. He scooted himself further into Goshiki’s personal space, soft touch examining his lover’s features, eyes longing into one another’s.

“Goshiki?”

The pained doubt laced around his very name sent a skip into his still unbalanced heartbeat, his weakness growing with every touch on his face.

And then he saw fat drops of both hurt and relief roll from the other’s youngish, healthily chubby cheeks. He felt the wet emotion with his own touch, and the moment he looked back into Shirabu’s eyes, a single line of broken sunshine dyed their beings gold, just where their lips met.

‘ _Young love, how nice,’_ Semi thought, his own feel of aloneness mixing with his happiness for his friends.

Shirabu pulled away, his tearing orbs holding something awfully serious, “I held you,”

That one sentence meant everything to the man. He died like he dreamed he would and yet still, he wasn’t really a goner just yet, “I’m sorry.”

Shirabu’s grieving laugh was something Goshiki never knew he would find an absurd fondness in. The way the early light shone through those damned blond locks and the way he shook his head in happy disbelief, sent the dark haired man’s heart aflame.

Shirabu was so strong, and Goshiki felt so weak. How could he let the only person who still cared for him go through all of this just because he himself was scared.

He was terrified of Ushijima; he was terrified of death. In the moment of blocking the bullet from reaching Tendou, being afraid was the only thing he knew. The mental picture of this angel he could call his lover slipped, and what was left was utter darkness.

He held Shirabu close to himself, “I’m so terribly sorry.” And listened to his pained cries, whilst Semi tilted his head against the wall, watching their shadows find peace after everything the past three days held.

The hidden writer side of Goshiki was unable to rest. He had to write this down, he needed proof of his being. He needed proof of himself being alive, as it felt too surreal to be true.

But unlike ever before, he didn’t need this proof for himself. He needed it to be strong for Shirabu, to be able to reassure him in hard times, that he indeed was still there, and he wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of Ushijima, not of death.

He slipped his index beneath Shirabu’s chin, tilting the man’s head up, breath against breath, “Let’s escape to France.”


End file.
